


THEshirt Series

by Chibisere23, ICarryYourHeart, kyrieanne, logictron, UndercoverWaterMoon



Category: The Brave (TV 2017)
Genre: ADAM DALTON - Freeform, AdamsArmsInTHEshirt, F/M, Jalton, Jaz Khan - Freeform, Sweaty Adam Dalton, THEshirt, THEshirt Series, The Brave Olympics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-04-13 23:18:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chibisere23/pseuds/Chibisere23, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ICarryYourHeart/pseuds/ICarryYourHeart, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrieanne/pseuds/kyrieanne, https://archiveofourown.org/users/logictron/pseuds/logictron, https://archiveofourown.org/users/UndercoverWaterMoon/pseuds/UndercoverWaterMoon
Summary: This is a series of one-shots revolving around the fabulousness that is sweaty Adam Dalton in his grey Army t-shirt (and his arms).UPDATED: Chapter 7 "Rescued"- by UndercoverWaterMoon





	1. Top Dives In...Shirtless!

**Author's Note:**

> #THEshirt even has its own Twitter tag and Twitter account ( @THEAdamShirt ) and is part of the #RenewTheBrave campaign.
> 
> Chibisere23 and UndercoverWaterMoon wrote the first two chapters for Weeks 3 and 4 of The Brave Olympics' Twist Challenge.  
> Chapter 1 won the Bronze Medal and Chapter 2 won us the GOLD!
> 
> #TheFabFive will continue the series. 
> 
> Please enjoy!

It’s a regular day in Turkey. An uneventful breakfast - cooked by Amir because it’s Saturday - accompanied by light bantering around the table.

“Amir, Top owes you for cooking breakfast faster today. Couldn’t have gone another round,” Preach says with a side glance and smirk at Adam, who’s chewing on homemade bread and frowning at a report. 

“You wish, old man,” Adam retorts without missing a beat.

As they eat, an urgent message arrives. 

A riot has broken out at a social gathering in some rich guy’s house, and he’s related to a government official. Two Americans are at this party and the DIA wants them safe.

Within minutes they are packed in their SUVs- bags of gear in the trunks. As they drive, it dawns on Adam that no one had changed clothes. Shrugging, he figures it will help them blend in at the summer party.

“So, we going to a party? Nice,” McG says. Head shakes are the only response.

Dalton’s team arrives at the house and they quickly settle on three goals: identify any armed targets, neutralize them, and find the two Americans. 

Adam quickly thinks through all the options, then walks the team through the plan.

Preach and McG are tasked with finding and securing the VIPs. Amir starts scanning  the growing crowd for suspicious activity. From their Turkish sources, they already know two men are armed, holsters under their jackets. Jaz and Adam head in their direction. Top motions for Jaz to walk around the opposite side; towards the back of the house where guests are scattering away from a pool.

The two men seem nervous, looking for some sort of signal. The first guy doesn’t see it coming, and Adam disarms him from behind. His partner hears the commotion and Jaz is almost to him when he turns around, fist raised, and throws the first punch.

Jaz evades it easily, but momentum sends her assailant toppling towards the pool. As he falls, he makes a grab for her, latching on to the thin fabric of the summer dress she’s wearing. Adam hears the loud splash. Jaz is struggling as she’s being pulled underwater by the larger body trying to drown her.

Immediately taking off his gray army shirt, Top dives in. 

Within seconds, Jaz is being pulled towards the edge and the bad guy is floating somewhere behind her.

“Jesus, Jaz…” he says almost to himself as he runs one hand over his beard.

“I had him,” she rasps, eliciting a strangled laugh from Adam. 

“You okay?” She nods, but now he’s noticing her dress is ripped pretty badly and she’s trying to gather the fabric as best she can to cover up. 

“I’m...” she trails off as he moves to pick up his discarded shirt, and hands it to her. Surely -she thinks as he stares down at her- there are other wardrobe options available. But he’s looking at her with a mixture of relief and anticipation and his eyes are begging her to just go along with it, so she does.

On the way home, the team jokes have died down, and Jaz is quiet in the passenger seat. Adam glances at her. The hem of his shirt is curled around her fingers…and he smiles.


	2. THEshirt Strikes Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Jaz," he rasps. "It's 5 am."  
> “I know.” Ignoring his scowl, she walks in. 
> 
> #THEshirt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The team has been incessantly ribbing Jaz and Adam about THEshirt incident in chapter 1.  
> Jaz plots her revenge.

A week has passed since the now legendary pool party riot where Jaz had almost drowned, torn her favorite dress, and worn Adam’s shirt back to base. The ribbing from the team has been incessant, and it’s starting to annoy the hell out of her.

“They are children. All of them.”

Adam tilts his head toward her and nods seriously, flipping a burger at the grill where they’re standing. But he’s laughing on the inside at how affronted she seems by it all.

That morning’s episode replays in his mind. 

 

****************

_ McG walks into the common area wearing a way-too-small t-shirt that stops four full inches above his belly button, the skin around the sleeves whitening from lack of blood flow. _

_ “What the hell, McG?” Jaz sputters looking up from her coffee. Adam chokes on a laugh, because he knows what this is, and it is not going to end well. _

_ “What? We-” he draws the word out, waving dramatically at Amir standing next to him- “were sparring, and my shirt just ripped apart out of nowhere! So, naturally....”  _

_ “I helped him out,” a shirtless Amir deadpans, hands casually on his hips.   _

_ Preach walks in, takes one look at McG, and the room explodes with laughter. Except for Jaz.   _

_ ***************** _

 

“Let them have their fun. You’ll get your revenge,” Adam says. Diffusing her temper is his specialty, and it works like a charm. But he can see the wheels turning in her head now.

“Jaz” he warns. “What are you thinking?” 

“Oh, you’ll see…” she says strolling away.

When she knocks on his door the next morning -dressed in his shirt and what seems like nothing else- his mouth goes a little dry. Half asleep, it takes all his willpower to keep his eyes on her face. 

“Jaz,” he rasps. “It’s 5 am.” 

“I know.” Ignoring his scowl, she walks in. “I have a plan. This shit is all your fault, so you’re going to help.”

 

****************

 

Two hours later, Adam sits at the kitchen table, staring down at some paperwork while he waits. 

Amir is busy at the stove, chopping last minute ingredients for the now traditional Saturday breakfast. Standing on the side, McG and Preach are chuckling at some picture on their phones.

Jaz walks in -barefoot and wearing Adam’s shirt- casually drags a chair as close to him as possible, and sits down.

Reaching over, she takes a sip from Adam’s mug and turns her head towards him slowly, so the fake angry hickey is clearly visible on her neck. Three mouths drop open. 

Adam is still looking down at the papers in his hand as if nothing is happening, and dead silence engulfs the room. 

Long seconds lapse - with somewhat incoherent attempts at questioning from Preach, McG and Amir- until the smell of burning shakshouka fills the kitchen.

“Oh, shit,” Amir is the first to react, but his sleeve gets caught in the frying pan handle and half the contents spill onto the stove. The grease fire gets out of hand fast and now they’re scrambling for the white fire extinguisher; the shriek of the fire alarm adding to the chaos. 

Adam stands, waving a towel near the smoke detector, as Preach puts the fire out.

They eat runny eggs for breakfast, and Jaz has the last laugh.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McG is upset that he isn't the center of attention, and Jaz finally gets some time to herself to read a smutty romance novel

It’s time. Jaz thought to herself with a sigh. Time to finally take the big step, the plunge - to jump off the proverbial cliff. Jaz looked down at the gray shirt in her lap, trying to stem her melancholy feelings. She could do this! It was just a shirt for heaven’s sake.

 

“It’s been decided then,” Jaz said out loud as she tossed the article of clothing onto the top of her laundry hamper, and continued gathering clothes from the floor in her room.

 

It was finally time to wash Adam’s shirt. It still held faint traces of her CO’s signature smell, but after wearing it on and off several times, the scent was fading. Not to mention, after their little revenge prank, there was make-up residue from the fake hickey on the collar.

 

Jaz smirked to herself remembering Adam’s incredulity at having to use makeup to imitate a love bite.

 

_“Jaz, I really don’t think this is going to work,” Adam muttered as he smudged dark purple eyeliner on her neck._

 

_“Of course it will!” Jaz enthused. “Those idiots won’t know what hit them!”_

 

_Jaz looked in the mirror at Adam’s progress. “No, not like that! It has to look real.”_

 

_“It would look better if it was real...” Adam muttered under his breath, but Jaz didn’t seem to hear him._

  


Thankfully, today was her day for laundry duty. The team took turns on laundry duty as they did with most chores when they were not out on a mission. The person on laundry detail would gather up everyone's clothes and spend the day at the laundromat on base

 

Since Jaz was in charge of washing the clothes, she could easily ensure that she washed Adam’s shirt and slipped it right back into her things when she was done. No way was she giving it back - not anytime soon, at least.

 

After their successful  retaliation against McG and Amir, no one had bothered Jaz about wearing Adam’s shirt, and Adam hadn’t asked for it back. She wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.

 

Jaz hummed a little tune to herself as she gathered up Preach, McG, Amir, and Adam’s discarded clothing and started off for the laundromat. She had a new book that she had been dying to read, and today was the perfect day for a steamy little romance novel.

 

* * *

  


Jaz was eyeballs deep in her romance novel when the dryer buzzer sounded to let her know the clothes were done. Jaz sat up startled out of her fantasy world and looked around. Thankfully, no one else was there to see her slouched in her chair and drooling out of the corner of her mouth.

 

She rarely let anyone see her so relaxed and unaware of her surroundings - it was unbecoming of a sniper, especially one of her caliber. But damn, Christian was describing how he was going to lick his way up Raven’s thigh, and make her moan _just so,_ when the buzzer sounded, again.

 

With a sigh of regret at having to pause her book, Jaz heaved herself out of her chair and ambled over to the industrial dryer. She pulled out the clothes and placed them in the empty laundry basket behind her, to be folded.

 

The diminutive  brunette was in the midst of moving the wet clothes from the washer into the dryer when McG walked in.

 

“Hey Jazzy, what’s up?” he asked with a smirk. Jaz sent him a suspicious glance.

 

“I’m on laundry duty, obviously. What do you want?”

 

McGuire seemed unfazed by her blunt response. “Do I need a reason to see my favorite teammate?”

 

Jaz added a fabric softener sheet to the clothing, and started the dryer. Turning to McG, she eyed him dubiously. “You always have a reason for the things you do, McGuire.”

 

The medic smiled, undaunted. “I just wanted to spend some time with you and catch up! We haven’t had much time to hang out lately, and I was feeling like a bad friend.”

 

Jaz softened, as always, at the reminder that she was cared for. “Yeah, okay. I’m here for the next few hours though. We can grab a few beers and play a game of horseshoes when I get back, alright?”

 

McG shrugged off his jacket and placed it on one of the empty chairs along the wall. “No problem, Jazzycat. I’ll give you a hand folding the laundry.” He walked over to the basket of freshly laundered clothing and began to sort the clothes into piles by owner.

 

It wasn’t uncommon for them to intermingle their clothing for laundry purposes. It was easier to do two or three large loads, rather than several for each person on the team.

 

Jaz and McG engaged in small talk, catching up on the latest base gossip, and sharing fond memories of their last deployment with Elijah. The afternoon passed quickly, Jaz noted, as she folded the last pair of pants and placed them on Amir’s pile.

 

“Thanks for the help, McGuire. Even though you interrupted my book, I guess your company wasn’t so bad.” Jaz teased her teammate.

 

“Yeah, yeah, see if I offer to help you carry this all back next time!” McG huffed, as he grabbed the canvas bag that held their clothes.

 

Jaz grabbed the laundry basket that held hers and Adam’s piles of clothing, making sure to slip Adam’s shirt in with her things. She followed McG out of the laundromat and back to their home away from home.

 

* * *

  


Dinner was a raucous affair, as Amir made his famous Shakshuka ( _Chaka Khan_ , as McGuire insisted on calling it), and Jaz couldn’t help but smile to herself at the image of her rag tag family.  

 

Preach was regaling the group with stories of his eldest daughter’s latest antics - _she just had to have the latest Coach backpack for school, all of her other friends had one -_ when Top pushed back from the table and began clearing the dishes.

 

Jaz wanted to take a shower, and knew that if she wanted to have any chance of getting hot water, she needed to head to the bathroom now. The sniper excused herself from the table, leaving McG and Amir as Preach’s captive audience.

 

Jaz grabbed her toiletries from her room, along with Adam’s shirt and a pair of sleep shorts, and headed into the bathroom. She undressed and turned on the shower. As hot steam began to fill the small bathroom, she sighed in happiness, ready to unwind from the day.

 

Approximately twenty minutes later, the brunette turned off the spray and dried her damp skin with her fluffy yellow towel. She pulled on a clean pair of panties, and her sleep shorts, followed by Top’s gray army shirt.

 

Only, something was wrong. The shirt was huge on her. It was always larger, naturally, than her own clothing would have been, but never like this! Normally the shirt went down to the tops of her thighs, the hem just brushing the underside of her butt.

 

Now though, it was down to just above her knees. The feeling of the fabric against her skin was also all wrong. Top’s shirt was soft, broken in from hundreds of washes.

 

_This_ shirt was rough, as if the fabric were still very new.  Clearly, this was not Adam’s shirt. But how was that possible? Jaz knew she had pulled it from Adam’s pile of clothing at the laundromat.

 

Unless - wait a minute. McGuire had been there helping her separate and fold the clothing. He must have taken Top’s shirt and placed this one in the pile instead, knowing that Jaz would try to steal it back. Of course. the shirt she was currently wearing was a ‘tall size’, something McG had specially ordered for his tall frame.

 

She sighed. McGuire was funny sometimes. He did not like it when he wasn't the center of attention, and he certainly didn't like to share.

 

She had encountered similar situations when Elijah was still alive. McG would do silly things, like insist Jaz try his brand of breakfast cereal if she commented that she really liked Elijah’s frosted mini wheats.

 

Just last week, when Jaz had complimented Amir’s mother’s cookie recipe, McG had said that _his_ mom’s chocolate chip cookies were to die for.

 

Jaz shook her head and chuckled to herself. McGuire just wanted to be loved, was all. She decided then and there that she wouldn’t make a fuss about the shirt switch.

 

Decision made, Jaz wrapped her long damp tresses in a towel, and headed back out to the common room to play video games with her guys.

 

Preach and Adam gave her strange looks when she came out wearing the obviously too large, and obviously not Adam’s shirt, but they didn’t comment. Amir’s glance was more discreet and speculative. McG just smiled and continued playing the first person shooter game.

 

* * *

 

Over the next few days, Adam noticed that Jaz was wearing more articles of clothing that were clearly not hers. It had started the other night, with her wearing McGuire’s army shirt. It was unusual, but Adam figured it got mixed up in the laundry and Jaz was prone to sleeping in large tees so he didn't think much of it.

 

The next day he saw her wearing a pair of sweatpants that were clearly Amir’s, based on the university logo displayed on one leg. This morning she was wearing one of Preach’s sweatshirts, the word ‘NAVY’ emblazoned on the back, as she went out the door for her morning run.

 

Adam was officially flabbergasted. What was going on here? He decided to ask Jaz when she was alone at the table that morning after breakfast, reading one of her ‘novels’.  It was a well kept secret that the guys all knew they were smut books, but no way in hell was anyone going to confront Jaz about that!

 

“So, Jaz, what's with the new outfits?”

 

Jaz looked up from her book. “What new outfits?” she questioned. Adam shot a pointed look at Preach’s sweatshirt.

 

Jaz smiled. “Oh. yeah. I think this is everyone’s way of showing they care and getting equal attention. I don’t think I’m describing it correctly, but they all want to feel important and connected. It started with McG being upset that I was wearing your shirt and not his. He slipped his shirt into my laundry pile last weekend.”

 

Jaz took a sip of her coffee. “Next, Amir’s sweatpants appeared on my bed. Preach’s sweatshirt was hanging by the door over my running shoes where I usually hang my jacket.”

 

She shrugged, “It makes them happy when I wear their stuff, so why fight it. Besides, everyone else’s clothing is so much more comfortable than mine!”

 

She picked up her book and now empty mug, and turned to go into her room. Adam was left sitting at the table, digesting the information he had just learned.  

 

* * *

  


That night, after her shower, Jaz walked back into her room while towel drying her hair. She closed the door, and began to get ready for bed, when she noticed something sitting on her pillow.

 

Folded neatly, was Top’s gray army shirt. She picked it up and a piece of paper fell to the floor.

 

The words, _for you_ , were scrawled in Adam’s  handwriting. Jaz smiled to herself, and clutched the shirt to her chest. Her guys, no her _family_ , was the most precious thing in the world.

 

With that thought, she climbed into bed, and turned out the light, lulled to sleep by McGuire’s snores.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam gets grumpy. Jaz tries to find out why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! So excited to be making my contribution to this glorious work of art. Thanks to my co-creators for letting me try my hand at this and letting me into the world you so graciously provided. It was fun!

Adam’s shirt took a special place in the line-up. She could wear everything else pretty much anywhere, but the grey Army shirt stayed in her room, only to be donned each night just before crawling under the covers and succumbing to sleep.

She didn't give it much thought. Until Adam started sulking.

Maybe no one else noticed it, but Jaz definitely did. As subtle as it was, it hurt. He stopped teasing her, he stopped finding excuses to touch her, he stopped calling on her for backup whenever he got into some ridiculous conversation (usually with McG). And she had no idea why.

After giving it a few days to resolve on its own, she finally decided to call him on it, albeit privately. She waited until everyone went to bed and then found him, still sitting in the common area, finishing off reports.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest and perching on the edge of the table. 

“Wrong?” There was just a half a second pause before he spoke, but it was enough to tell Jaz she was right. There was something.

“You've been pouting for days now, and it only seems to be around me.”

He sat back and looked up at her, arms folded behind his head, and Jaz couldn't help but stare at the way his biceps flexed against the sleeves of his shirt.

“Pouting? I don't pout, Jaz.”

“Yeah, okay. You keep telling yourself that, Top.” She studied him a beat longer, trying to put the pieces together. “Do you want your shirt back, is that it?”

“If you're not using it,” came his muttered reply as he went back to the stack of papers in front of him. Or tried to, anyway.

“Wait, wait, hold on.” Jaz scooted closer, placing her hand atop the reports to stop him from continuing with his work. “Are you mad because you think I’m not wearing it?”

“I’m not mad,” Adam insisted, though he missed the mark on sounding convincing. He reached for her hand, tugging at her wrist to move it away, but seemed to change his mind once he was touching her and just stayed like that.

Narrowing her eyes, Jaz studied him for a minute. For all of his attempts at a cool and collected exterior, sometimes, she caught glimpses of the hurt little boy underneath. She never once doubted him in the line of fire, but right now, in the middle of the night, he was just Adam.

“I wear it to bed,” she explained softly, pulling her hand gently back from his grasp to lace their fingers together instead. “Every night. The less I wear it, the longer it smells like you.”

Adam’s head lifted, his gaze finding hers. The furrow in his brow lessened as he studied her.

“Jaz…”

“It doesn’t have to be a thing,” she promised, well aware that this was toeing a line. “It just...it makes me feel safe, okay? That’s all.”

For most of her life, anytime she’d been stressed or anxious or scared, the first thing impacted was her sleep. Too many childhood memories. Even now, some nights she couldn’t keep the insomnia at bay. But the shirt helped. _Adam_ helped.

He nodded, squeezing her hand, skimming his thumb over her knuckles before pulling his hand away and picking up his pen.

“You can give it back, you know,” he said, his focus back on the documents in front of him. “I could always wear it again.”

“I might do that,” Jaz allowed with a grin. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? The paperwork will be just as insufferable in the morning.”

She pushed off the table and spared him one last glance before retreating to her room. Inside, she tugged off her tank top and pulled on his shirt instead, instantly calmer, just from the familiar brush of the cotton against her skin. When she crawled into bed and closed her eyes, she could imagine Adam there, too, his arms securely around her, the soft prickle of his beard on her shoulder, his breath on her neck.

Everyone else’s things, she wore for them. It made her team feel closer to her, cared for, and she completely understood that. But Adam’s shirt, she wore for herself. Maybe admitting it to Adam was crossing a line, but the way he’d looked at her made the risk worth it. Maybe she wasn’t the only one who needed to feel safe. Maybe he deserved that, too.


	5. Strawberry Poptarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So excited to contribute to #THEshirt series! This chapter exists because of late night brainstorming and the brilliant Fab5. Hope you all enjoy it!

The bi-weekly trip to the commissary was no one’s favorite, and Adam had drawn the short straw this time. He pulled out the shopping list and gritted his teeth when he saw the long list of items in Amir’s careful handwriting. He had a feeling he was going to spend hours trying to figure out what Amir meant by Consomme, or Pralines, before just giving in and calling him. Although he wasn’t exactly thrilled about his shopping excursion, Adam smiled thinking of Amir’s new role as team cook. It satisfied him that Amir was settling in, and finding his place within the team. 

 

Adam walked aimlessly through the commissary, adding items when he recognized them from the list. His mind wandered as he walked, and focused on the thought that had been stuck at the back of his mind for the last 3 days since his conversation with Jaz. 

 

Her confession replayed in his mind. _“It just...it makes me feel safe, okay? That’s all.”_ He frowned over the memory, wondering how many times she’d felt unsafe in the past month. 

Guilt weighed on him. He should have seen it. 

 

His eyes traveled over the shelves and landed on a bulk-sized box of strawberry poptarts. They were Jaz’s favorite. He paused over them for a moment before a small smile crossed his lips, and he loaded four large boxes into the cart. An idea popped into his mind and settled there, and the grocery run suddenly became much more enjoyable as he hunted down the small section of books at the end of the store. 

 

Adam felt slightly awkward picking up a book that so prominently featured a ridiculously chiseled man’s torso. He set it down hastily, and sent a text off to his oldest sister. She was the big reader of the family. As he waited for a reply, Adam inched the cart away from the romance section and pretended to be deeply interested in a Guns and Ammo magazine. His phone chimed, and he opened the text from his sister to see a large list of book titles. He eyed the titles on the shelf, grabbing a few matching ones before hastily covering them up with the large bag of rice. 

 

By the time Adam reached the checkout line, he was well aware he was grinning like an idiot. He schooled his features as he began piling the items onto the counter, shifting the books out of plain sight.   

The cashier was a tall wiry looking kid who went by the name “Clark” according to his name tag. Clark was chatty, and Adam shifted awkwardly as he watched the pile of books move along the conveyor belt. 

 

“You like poptarts huh?” Clark said, gesturing to the four large boxes on the counter.  

 

Adam gave a non-committal shrug and pulled his wallet out. Clark’s hand hovered over a romance novel and he glanced up at Adam, whose stone-faced look dared him to say something. Clark’s eyes widened and he scanned in the novels, one by one. The last one wouldn’t scan, and there was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the loud  _ beep _ of the register as Clark fumbled with the book. He reached for the store intercom and dialed. 

 

“Price check on uh... _The Desert Lord’s Lover,_ ” Clark said, muttering the last part.

Adam felt a small part of him curl up and die of shame, and he hurriedly yanked bills out of his wallet and slapped them onto the counter. 

 

“That should more than cover it, yeah?” Adam said, nudging the extra $20 bill at the kid. 

 

“But sir did you want change?” Clark asked, looking a little sweaty as he took in Adam’s hard look. 

 

“Nope, keep it,” Adam said, jamming the books to the bottom of the bag and hurriedly wheeling the cart from the store. He felt his face heat as he strode towards the car, and was shoving groceries in the back when his gaze landed on the army surplus store. Another idea formed. 

* * *

 

Jaz returned from her run to find a brown paper bag tossed onto her bed. She peeked inside curiously and was surprised to see a small pile of romance novels. 

 

“I know they make you happy” a voice said behind her.

 

Jaz turned to see Adam and smiled. 

 

“They do, thank you” she said, absurdly touched by the gesture. 

 

He had a small crease on his forehead and she tilted her head as he looked at her. 

 

“What?” she asked. 

 

“Jaz you know if you ever need to talk, I’m here right?” 

 

It was easy to trust her teammates to have her back. The physical motions were nearly second nature to her. But the murky world of emotions left her on unsteady footing. Jaz glanced back at Adam, who was watching her carefully. 

 

“I know,” she said, and it was the truth. His features softened and he tapped twice on the doorjamb. 

 

“Have a good night then.”

“Night,” Jaz murmured, sitting back on her bed. 

* * *

 

Jaz slipped into the Army shirt and pulled out one of the novels Adam had brought her. The cheesy cover made her grin, and she scanned the back for a summary. Deciding that she was in the mood for a pirate adventure romance, she settled back, curling her legs under her. The fact that said pirate was blond and bearded was just an added bonus. The noise in the barracks slowly died down as the team settled down for the night. 

 

Jaz stared at the moonlit wall across her room, momentarily distracted from Stormy Persuasion. The scent of Adam had long since faded from the shirt, and she shifted restlessly. 

 

It was late when Jaz worked up the nerve to make her way across the hallway. She knocked, and heard the creak of bedsprings followed by soft footfalls before Adam opened the door, his face in shadow. 

 

“Remember your offer?” Jaz asked, holding out the shirt to him. 

 

His features softened and he stepped forward to take the shirt from her. Her eyes fell on the gray army shirt he already wore, and she watched as he pulled it off to replace it with the one she’d handed to him. Despite the temptation to glance at his chest, Jaz kept her eyes on his face, pulling on that same reservoir of control she used to keep her aim true. The shirt he handed her was warm, and she pulled it on immediately, not bothering to hide the small smile. 

 

“Thanks,” she murmured, and then cocked her head. “I didn’t know you had two of these.”

 

Adam scratched at his beard as he glanced down at her. 

 

“I bought some more,” he stepped back to gesture to a chair where three more identical gray army shirts sat neatly folded. 

 

“I thought these were discontinued after the uniform change; where did you find them?” 

 

Adam shrugged. “There were a few laying around.” 

 

“Why did you buy so many?” she asked. 

 

Adam shifted slightly before meeting her eyes. 

 

“I just want you to feel safe. So, I thought if I had a steady supply, then...” he trailed off. 

 

Jaz felt her heart tip and she crossed her arms over her chest. Another defense mechanism.

 

“I feel safe” she said, and stepped back so she would be less tempted to crawl into his bed. 

 

“And you’ll tell me if you don’t?” he asked, his expression earnest. 

 

He was asking her to trust him, and because she found she already did, it wasn’t hard for her to nod her agreement. 

 

“I’ll tell you” she said. 

* * *

 

Jaz woke with the sun, and stumbled to the coffee machine. When she opened the cabinet to grab a coffee filter, she was met with an entire shelf stocked with strawberry poptarts. It gave her a moment’s pause, and then a giant smile crossed her face.  _ Adam, _ she thought, holding the poptart as if it were a prized possession. Just another one of his little gestures. The acts of kindness softened her, and she found that was a feeling of safety in itself, knowing she was cared for. 

 

“Why are you looking at that poptart like that?” Amir asked suddenly, jerking her out of her sentimental thoughts.

 

“None of your business,” she replied, tucking the package under her arm as she waited for the coffee to brew. 

 

“That thing is pure processed sugar. You are aware of that right?” Amir was staring at the package as if the mere presence of it offended him. 

 

Jaz leveled him with a glare and grabbed her coffee, stalking to her room so she could smile at her poptarts in peace. 

 

* * *

 

Adam stared at the large piles of laundry. He was beginning to think this whole chore system was rigged, and considering McG had held the sticks both times he probably wasn’t too far off the mark. 

 

The team had gone  their separate ways and Adam walked to Jaz’s room, his last stop, to drop off her finished laundry. The sight of a box of poptarts on her night stand made him smile. The small novel on her bed lay face down, propped open by its own weight. Curiosity drove him to pick it up and skim the pages. He raised an eyebrow at the particularly poetic description of the heroine’s physique, and flipped to the cover to compare. Well, it was accurate. 

 

Adam continued reading, and frowned as he got slightly lost in the plot. He flipped back a few pages and found the thread of the story, but paused again after a few moments before giving up and finally flipping to the first page.

 

Half an hour later Adam was perched on Jaz’s bed, munching thoughtfully on a strawberry poptart, and eagerly turning the page as a fight broke out between a band of pirates and the hero. 

A door slammed and he jumped, cursing as he dropped the book. He had just enough time to plop the book back the way he’d found it and scarf down the rest of the poptart when Jaz walked into her room, stopping when she saw him. 

 

“Um, hi?” 

 

“Hey, I was just dropping off your laundry” Adam explained, praying there were no crumbs on his face. 

* * *

 

 

It began slowly. One night, Jaz was lying on top of her covers because the summer heat was too much for blankets, and she noticed her bed was covered in crumbs. She swore her poptart supply was disappearing faster than she was eating them, and wondered if she was so distracted by her new pile of books that she was getting messier. 

 

A small stain of strawberry jam on the corner of the page raised her suspicion further. She never got food on her books. 

 

Jaz set the book down and stared around her room. Something was off. She looked carefully at her book again and noticed a crease in the spine that was much further along than she had read. Jaz frowned and flipped the pages slowly, stopping when she saw another small jam stain a full chapter ahead. 

 

Somebody was reading her books. 

 

Considering it was stopped on a particularly steamy scene, Jaz fully suspected McG. She grinned, thinking she could get out of at least a month’s worth of unpleasant chores if she caught him in the act. A plan formed. 

 

* * *

 

 

It was late in the afternoon the next day when Jaz loudly announced she was going down to the open air market for a few hours. Preach and Amir were already gone, and only McG and Adam remained. 

 

Jaz gave it half an hour before sneaking back into the Quonset hut. The place looked empty, but she moved quietly still, and when she stepped into the doorway of her room, she paused in surprise. 

 

Adam was perched on her bed eating a poptart, a focused expression on his face, holding up the Scottish highlands novel she was currently reading. 

He was the last person she would have suspected to be reading her novels. Jaz cleared her throat loudly and smothered a grin when Adam froze, poptart in his mouth. His eyes moved up slowly to meet hers. 

 

“Whoops”, he muttered around the poptart. 

 

Jaz controlled the smile and walked up to her bed, snagging the second poptart from the package. 

 

“So, what do I have to do to ensure this stays between us?” Adam asked. 

 

Jaz thought about it for a moment before motioning for him to scoot over and settled beside him on the bed. Close enough so she could read the page he was on, but not close enough to cross the line into non-platonic touching. She’d become very aware of her proximity to him lately. 

 

“Why don’t you catch me up?” she suggested, “Since you seem to be ahead.” 

 

Adam gazed down at her, an unreadable expression on his face, before his features smoothed out and he settled back. 

 

“Well, they just made it to the southern front, and Alexander Patrick Macpherson, the main one, ran into Miranda McDonnell again. Oh and before that, Alexander started noticing that he had feelings for the young Miranda. Well wait, no that wasn’t until she saved his life.” Adam frowned. “Nevermind, here.” He flipped back to the page she’d left off on, and began reading aloud. 

 

Jaz scooted a centimeter closer so she could read along. The sound of his voice was warm and just a little rough, and she thought she might try to blackmail him into reading to her more often. His shoulder brushed against her as he turned the page and she settled into the warm press of skin against hers. Just another little secret they would have to keep. Jaz felt herself drift in the comforting sound of his voice as she was pulled into the story. It felt nice, sharing this thing that made her so happy with the person who made her feel just as happy. 

 

“Alexander felt desire burn through him as he gazed upon the lithe form of the maiden in front of him. He pulled her into a passionate embrace, and the hardening of his - Oh.” Adam paused and snapped the book shut. 

 

Jaz cleared her throat uncomfortably. The effect of Adam reading that particular scene had her flushing and she struggled to keep her face placid. 

 

“That’s a good place to stop for tonight” Adam said, his voice just a little rougher. 

 

“Yep” Jaz agreed, scooting so he could get off the bed. 

* * *

 

Adam was almost out of her room when he remembered the shirt and tugged it off. 

 

“Here,” he said, stepping forward and placing the shirt over Jaz’s head. She pulled her arms through and went to pull her hair free, but he beat her to it. 

 

“Let me,” he said, well aware he was stepping over a line. Jaz shivered slightly as his fingers trailed along the back of her neck, or at least he thought she did. Her face remained expressionless as he pulled her hair free, and he thought maybe he’d just read too many of her novels over the past two weeks. 

“Goodnight,” he said, stepping away and trying not to read too much into the way it felt seeing her standing in his shirt. 

 

“Night,” Jaz murmured, her eyes on his. 

 

He smiled and stepped back to reach for the door. 

 

“Adam?” 

 

The sound of his name from her lips was oddly personal, and he turned. 

 

“Thanks for helping me feel safe,” she said, eyes on his.

 

He smiled, and the concern he didn’t know he’d been holding in faded. 

 

“Anytime.” 

  
  



	6. Cassiopeia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He doesn’t really know why today of all days he gives into the curiosity and browses the woman’s table. Then he finds Cassiopeia. The vain queen.

He finds it at the bazaar in Adana at a stand he’s passed a hundred times.

 

An old woman sits there with her radio humming the scores to a cricket match somewhere in Australia. The sounds of the city:  the creaking of the bus’s brakes, shouts of shoppers, and the calls for daily prayers at the mosques, drown out the radio so she bends down low and presses her ear to it.

 

It makes Adam smile every time he passes her because he wants to know how she came to love Australian cricket, but she sells trinkets, carved silver housewares and handmade jewelry. Nothing practical, so Adam tells himself to not bother.

 

But today he does. He doesn’t really know why today of all days he gives into the curiosity and browses the woman’s table. What does make sense is the first thing his eyes find. It’s the pile of dog tags next to strands of turquoise and jade and coral beads. They don’t have words on them like his own. Instead, each has tiny holes punched into them in different patterns. It isn’t until he picks one up in his palm that he realizes they’re the constellations. There are ones for the zodiac and Orion and Andromeda. He takes his time pushing the through the pile with a finger.

 

Then he finds Cassiopeia. The vain queen.

 

Immediately, he thinks of Jaz that night in Seville looking at him with those raised eyebrows and how it tugged a smile out of him. He’d told her the story of Cassiopeia because it’d been the brightest constellation that night looking out from that deck. She’d wandered over to him in that black strappy top that left too much and too little to the imagination at the same time, and he remembers something blooming in his chest when she sat down next to him.

 

When Elijah was alive Jaz gravitated toward him, and while Adam had initially wondered if there was something going on between the two soldiers he quickly realized it wasn’t that. Elijah was effusive and persistent at the same time, and he wouldn’t let her not be his friend.

 

Adam Dalton isn’t Elijah, and in the wake of the other man’s death he’s been conscious of not appearing like he is trying to replace Elijah. Hell, if that were what was going on between them it’d be easier. But at some point it stopped being about standing alongside her as she mourned Elijah. Maybe it’d been Tehran or her admitting recently that his shirt made her feel safe or some other time he’s not even conscious of, but the truth is Jaz is her own category.

 

Most days Adam ignores this fact. But she is and that day in the bazaar Adam knows it just like he knew that night in Seville or when he felt her curled there beside him in her bed as he read that ridiculous romance novel aloud.

 

_(Did he sneak back in there the next day and finish it? Yes, of course he did.)_

 

So that is why he buys the dog tag with Cassiopeia - because at some point, Jaz with all her quips and flashes of temper and gentleness she hides, has slotted into her own category. He doesn’t want to try to label it or understand why or really think about what it could mean, for him and for her.

 

Instead, he asks the woman at the stand how much and she rattles off a price in Turkish without eve looking up from her radio. It too much for a simple piece of metal with some holes punched into it, but Dalton pulls out the money and hands it over. He holds it warmed in his hand, curled inside his pocket, until he’s right outside the Quonset hut, and he can hear her taunting McG over a game of horse shoes and he stops.

 

Adam pulls out the dog tag and turns it over twice.

 

“Shit.”

 

But he takes off his own dog tags and threads this new one onto the chain.

 

It clinks against the Army issue ones, and he drops it back beneath his shirt. It isn’t lost on Adam where they land, in the concave of his chest, right above the breast bone, pressed against the skin where his heart beats.

 

***

 

They’re in a rut – mission wise – and it’s making everyone twitchy. Adam can only have them run so many training ops and no one is ready to go back to the beach for pick up soccer. So he asks for suggestions, which is his first mistake, and his second is giving them a vote.

 

Amir suggests a picnic.

 

McG bursts out laughing, bent over at the table, and he doesn’t notice Jaz steal the last his dessert, baklava Amir made this morning.

 

“A picnic? We’re an Omega team, Amir. Not the Family Von Trapps.”

 

Jaz raises an eyebrow, “Big fan of _The Sound of Music,_ McG?”

 

“My mom likes musicals.”

 

“I just thought it’d be nice to get off base,” Amir says. He looks at Top, “Call it a team building exercise.”

 

Adam leans his chair back onto two legs and shakes his head, “How the hell can I justify that?”

 

Preach shrugs, “Remember Seville. We couldn’t even go out for drinks without getting dragged into an international incident.”

 

The entire table looks at McG, who is looking around for his lost baklava.

 

“There is no way I could have known she was the daughter of a Russian spy,” he blusters.

 

“What’s your angle Preach?” Adam turns to the other man. He’s surprised Preach is game for Amir’s suggestion.

 

“Turn us loose off base, let us act like normal people – all together as a unit – and see if we can fit in. For each strange look or question we do reps of whatever hellish PT you want to put us through.”

 

“I’m game,” Amir shrugs.

 

“Yeah, says the invisible man.” McG protests. “His job is literally to fly under the radar.”

 

Jaz elbows him. “Don’t pout just cause you can’t.”

 

“It’s not my fault people notice pretty.”

 

Adam lets his chair come onto the floor. He leans both elbows onto the table and surveys his team around the table. “If we do this it’s a team exercise so you’re all in it together.”

 

He turns it over to a vote – Preach and Amir are instant an yes and he and McG vote no. It’s up to Jaz and he can see the know-it-all grin on her face when she realizes this.

 

“What the hell?” she says, “Let’s see if we can pass as domestic.”

 

***

 

Turns out you can rent picnic gear from the rec center, and Amir makes good use of the coolers, canopies, and portable grill. He and Preach plan out their meal and cover like two suburban housewives planning book club. There’s a menu, itinerary, and finally the night before they’re set to leave Amir hands out notecards with their cover stories on them.

 

Jaz scans the card, “Preach is a South African business mogul recently divorced and in search of new horizons?”

 

“I want to try the accent.”

 

Patton whines from the couch and Adam sighs with him.

 

"It doesn't make a lot of sense for why five unrelated grown adults would go on a picnic without any kids," Amir says, "so we came up with the idea that you're a tourist group and I'm your guide. We're gonna go to Yumurtalik. It's a holiday destination for locals. Top can't accuse us of not fulfilling mission parameters." 

 

“Not a mission,” he says.

 

“Until you scrounge up a real one for us, this is what you get.” Jaz grins.

 

Amir is all business, “McG, you’re the quintessential American tourist. We figured since you’re terrible at accents better keep it simple.”

 

“Hey!”

 

“You get to wear flip flops,” Preach says.

 

“I’m good.”  

 

Amir looks at Adam and Jaz last, “Preach suggested to pair you two up since that seems to always work well. So you’ll be a British couple honeymooning in Turkey. Jaz if you don’t want to bother with an accent, you can be McG’s girlfriend, I guess.”

 

“We’re good,” Adam says. He stands and hands the card back to Amir. “We roll out at 0400.”

 

He leaves them there in the common room and because if he’s going to spend all day tomorrow pretending to honeymoon with Jaz…well, he just has an overwhelming need for some space. He shrugs off any lingering thoughts that it might be related to his sniper, but of course she has to get in the last word.

 

“I thought this wasn’t a mission?” she calls out.

 

“See you in the morning, _dear_.”

 

***

 

They leave before the sun rises because there is an _itinerary_ and Adam is so going to tell Preach’s wife about this because she will never let him live it down. The man is part-soldier, part-cul-de-sac loving soccer mom. Under the guise of their “cover” Amir rents a minivan and they pile in. McG and Jaz argue over who gets to pick the road trip music and Adam uses the time to catch up on reports.

 

He and Jaz share the middle seat and she falls asleep forty-five minutes into the drive, her head leaned up against the window, but her feet tuck under his knee. She’s barefoot and he notices her toes are painted bright red.

There is something nice about it all:  Amir in his element, Preach in the backseat wasting time on a Reddit page, McG crooning to Billy Joel in the front, and Jaz asleep with her hair braided and thrown over her shoulder.

 

When she sleeps she tucks her hands under her jaw. This isn’t a new observation for Adam. They’ve had plenty of nights bunked down in abandoned buildings, isolated fields, and safe houses around the world. He’s seen Jaz Kahn sleep; he doesn’t know if he’s ever seen her nap. He likes the way she shifts in her sleep, turning so that she faces the back of the seat, cuddled up around her day pack bag, and Adam can’t help but lose his spot in the report he’s reading when her toes flex under his knee.

 

He stills and watches her curl tighter around her day bag, chewing on her bottom lip in her sleep. Then her toes stretch against that muscle on the inside of his knee. He can’t help but react, the muscle tightening, and he feels it all the way up his leg and hip. Her toes rest there and Adam inhales because it’s so close and yet so far from the category he won’t allow her to slot into.

 

_You’re the only CO I’ve ever had who looks at me and doesn’t see a woman first._

Since she’d said that Adam has held onto it like a mantra because she deserves for that to be true, and he’ll be damned if he’s the guy who makes it more complicated for her; he doesn’t ever want to be the one who makes her have to deal with things most men in her position never think about.

 

But there are her toes stuck under his leg as if they were curled up on a couch somewhere in America and there’s a football game on and they really are their cover:  two people in love living a life that is as simple as vacations and Sunday afternoon naps.

 

He thinks of Cassiopeia there beneath his shirt, and Adam knows that he needs her to feel safe. Not because he’s her CO, but because of what he told her when he grounded her from Columbia. If he doesn’t do right by her he’ll never forgive himself.

 

***

 

They get to Yumurtalık and Adam knows this was a mistake when Amir puts on a visor and Jaz grabs his hand. She must feel the sharp intake of breath he takes at the sensation of her fingers interlaced with his because she leans her chin into his shoulder and in _sotto voce_ says, “Something wrong, dear?”

 

“We’re English, remember” he counters in his best British accent and her cheeks turn pink.

 

 _Good._ He needs her to be off her game a little if he’s going to get through today. The sensation of her hand in his, the weight and swing of it as they follow faux-tourist guide Amir, is distracting. This whole damn day is going to be like this. While Adam doesn’t want to borrow trouble, he wishes deeply they had a damn mission – that there was a minor crisis somewhere in which no one actually died or was maimed – just so his team didn’t have to resort to _this_.

 

Amir calls McG a stupid American in Turkish, Preach snaps a selfie in front of a door complete with two fingers held up in a peace sign. McG readjusts his fanny pack. Adam grumbles and Jaz knocks him with her shoulder.

 

“You look like a mopey lion,” she says in the right accent this time, “not a man who just married the love of his life.”

 

Amir calls their attention to a wall from the 13th century before Adam can respond, but as they stand there listening to Amir talk history he grabs Jaz around the waist and tucks his chin into the curve of her neck. He stops short of pressing his lips to her pulse point, but if anyone is watching they’d think that’s what he was doing. He feels her own draw of breath in his arms and he smiles to himself.

 

***

 

Turns out Yumurtalık is fascinating – an ancient port city that swells in the warmer months with locals from Adana – and Adam finds himself enjoying the historic tour Amir has clearly put time and energy into. He can’t help but laugh at McG’s questions, clearly meant to trip up their faux-guide, and how Preach asks all matter of awkward things about how does one marry a Turkish woman? He’s ready for a new beginning.

 

He and Jaz hang to the back of the group and Adam loses track of whose hands go where first. He anchors his palm on the small of her back and keeps her close. There are more than a few men whose eyes slide over her in that black sundress. She’s showing more skin than she’d normally do if they were on mission because this place is between two worlds, secular and traditional. Her barred shoulders draw attention and she can handle it, but Adam is happy to use the excuse of their cover to stay close.

 

_Alexander felt desire burn through him as he gazed upon the lithe form of the maiden in front of him. He pulled her into a passionate embrace, and the hardening of his…_

The words of that romance novel sneak their way into his head and he tucks his chin. He’s wearing a fucking dog tag with Cassiopeia hanging around his neck and walking around an ancient city with Jaz pressed into his side. Adam prides himself on being honest with himself and as the morning stretches into afternoon he has to admit it:  he can kind of understand how Alexander felt. Burning is exactly the right word for it.

 

***

 

They end up on the beach.

 

Adam wouldn’t admit this under duress, but he’s oddly proud of his team. They kept their covers no matter how hard they each tried to get the other to slip up. Preach insisted on taking photos of Adam and Jaz in one of those doorways painted bright colors.

 

“Closer,” he called out, “show her how much you love her. Don’t end up like me, alone and sorry.”

 

So Adam pressed his lips to the underside of her jaw and he smiled when she shivered.

 

By the time they end up on the beach it’s mid-afternoon and Amir takes his role as guide seriously. He orders them to erect the canopy while he unpacks the picnic he made full of Turkish dishes:  _sarma_ , with herbed goat cheese wrapped in grape leaves, and fried eggplant, peppers, and potatoes served in yogurt. There’s wine and marzipans from a local bakery. Adam tastes the almond of the dessert and thinks of the shaved almonds his grandmother used to sprinkle on her pound cake and he’s caught up in how far this life he’s chosen has brought him. Pennsylvania and the boy who memorized the stars will never leave him, but he likes today. It’s reminding him even though he’s a soldier there’s more to his world than that.

 

Jaz pokes a finger to his side and Adam turns his head toward her. They’re laid out on one of the blankets Amir spread out beneath the canopy. Down the beach Amir, Preach, and McG are playing pick up soccer with some local kids. It’s eerily reminiscent of that day on the beach those months ago, but Adam pushes away the thought they’re jinxing themselves:  straying too close to happy memories.

 

“You’re stuck in your head,” Jaz grins at him and Adam tucks his chin again because apparently that’s what he does now when his answer is too honest to say aloud.

 

“This was a good idea,” he says instead. “Good job on making that deciding vote.”

 

They’re side by side, leaning on their hips, with just inches between them, but Adam give in to his desire to tap his foot against her own and brush off the sand stuck there on her skin.

 

She lifts a shoulder, “I figured we could all use a chance to blow off steam, even you.”

 

Amir calls out to them then and they get recruited for the soccer game. They play until the sun starts to sink and Adam doesn’t know if they’re still bothering with covers as the beach empties, but when Jaz scores a goal against him he uses their cover as an excuse to pick her up, with her whooping and hollering in that fake British accent, and he dumps her into the Mediterranean. She comes up sputtering and swearing in French at him. He laughs and runs. Amir and Preach and McG leave them to their fight in sand and salt water.

 

***

 

It’s on the ride home in the dark moonlight that Adam let’s himself make the call. It’s a silent admission.

 

Amir drives with headphones in and McG and Preach snore in their respective seats. Jaz sits with Adam in that middle seat, but this time she’s awake. She shifts next to him and unzips the hoodie she put on after he threw her in the ocean. He stealing a look at her collar bone and does a double take when he realizes under her sweatshirt...

 

She’s wearing the shirt.

 

“You’re staring, Top,” she murmurs as she looks up from her Kindle. He leans over and confirms it’s another one of those romance novels she likes.

 

Adam still can’t name why he stopped at that booth in the first place and he definitely can’t explain what prompts him now to tell her about Casseopia hanging around his neck except he wants her to know the need is mutual, the desire to keep the other close makes. She touches the metal when he pulls out the dog tag to show her, and he watches the emotions on her face:  confusion, recognition, and then a quiet smile.

 

“This way, well I figure it’s fair,” he says, “you need something of mine and me too. I need -,”

 

The emotion is whispered and caught in his throat. She rescues him then by smiling so wide and so bright that he couldn’t finish the sentence if he knew the words to describe how he feels.

 

The sun sinks into the Turkish horizon and McG snores in the front seat. Adam stretches his arm so it rests along the back of the seat, skimming Jaz’s shoulders in his t-shirt. The light is a gauzy purple and he is tried the way you are at the end of a long, but _good_ day. There in the back of a mini-van Adam Dalton admits to himself Jaz Khan isn’t a category unto herself.

 

She’s the game changer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fab5, favs, of course! 
> 
> Thanks to fulltimeprocrastinator, who has nothing to do with The Brave, but because fandom is awesome of course I was able to text a fandom friend who is actually from Turkey, to pick her brain with the random questions that come with fic writing.


	7. Rescued

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Adam's birthday, and Jaz wants to find him the perfect gift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!
> 
> So, this took me an embarrassingly long time to finish, but it's finally done! 
> 
> It is set a couple of months after Chapter 6, and an indefinite amount of time before logictron's Chapter 8.
> 
> Also, it references Chapter 6 quite a bit (Cassiopeia by Kyrie Anne), so you may want to refresh your memory before reading this part. 
> 
> THANK YOU, as always, to #TheFab5 for listening to my endless ramblings about this chapter, and for talking me off the ledge when I wanted to KEEP editing :)  
> You guys are the best!
> 
> Okay. Enjoy!

Jaz puts down the pen with a frustrated sigh. At first glance, the long list of ideas on the lined notebook page seems impressive. Until you start reading. Personalized socks is idea number four - damn QVC.com - and it’s all downhill from there.

 

“Lame,” she whispers, resigned. In three weeks, Adam will turn 38, and while Jaz is determined to find him the perfect present, she keeps coming up empty.

 

It’s not the first time she’s wanted to do this, but the familiar voice in her head that worries about propriety, and Army rules, and the inevitable vulnerability often involved in gift-giving has always held her back.

 

But things are different now.

 

The moment she’d laid eyes on that Cassiopeia dog tag Adam keeps around his neck, Jaz had felt the proverbial changing of the tide between them. Skimming her fingertip over the metal, still warm from his body heat, it had taken all her sniper discipline to contain her emotions as he’d admitted to needing her.

 

 _Her._ Never in a million years would she have imagined this magnetic pull between them could exist, much less grow into this undeniably deep connection, impossible to ignore. In reality, they are far from being a _thing_ of any sort -and Jaz has made peace with the fact their careers make that an impossibility- but they are not just friends either. Not anymore.

 

So she finds herself up at dawn, sitting cross-legged on the outdoor picnic with pen and paper in hand, furiously mulling over all possible gift ideas as the sun rises on the Turkish sky.

 

Every year since Adam’s been the team’s CO - even before Jaz’s arrival- the team has pitched in to get him a birthday gift. The same one each time, because Adam is impossible to shop for and even perfect, gift-finder Preach balks at the thought.

 

“Look, the Army already issues everything he loves,” Preach explains when Jaz awkwardly approaches him one morning, coffee-stained paper in hand.

 

“Everything?” Jaz asks, averting her eyes involuntarily. Damn it, she didn’t mean it to sound like that.

 

Preach wipes the last cereal bowl dry, then turns fully towards her with an affectionate smile. “I meant _things_ he loves, that you can buy. You know, with money--”

 

“Alright, alright. I get it,” Jaz sputters with a nervous laugh already backing away, one hand up in surrender while the other fists around the paper, crushing it into a little ball of bad ideas. Without looking, she nails the shot into the trash bin, and disappears through the plastic curtains.

 

Preach chuckles, watching her retreat. There’s no way she’s giving up that easy.

 

_______________________________

 

A week later they decide on the amount, and everyone PayPals Preach, who will make the donation in Adam’s name to Vital Warrior, as tradition dictates. The printed receipt will be folded neatly into a manly royal blue envelope that will also contain the thoughtful birthday card Amir will select. The outside will read _Happy Birthday, Top_ in respectable sharpie black and McG’s perfect handwriting.

 

To complete the annual ritual, Jaz will make a reservation at that Adana restaurant Adam says he loves. They will pretend not to notice the four baskets of complimentary bread he eats, and will hide their smirks when he requests a to-go box for the entree he orders. The guys will forget about it as the rounds of celebratory shots cause the usual havoc, but Jaz knows he’ll feed it to Patton in the middle of the night when he thinks everyone’s sleeping.

 

Smiling, she picks up the phone and dials. A minute later, she confirms the reservation time and thanks the hostess in perfect Turkish.

 

“Evet. 19:00. Teşekkür ederim.”

 

“What’s at 1900?” Adam asks, walking into the living area. Jaz folds her legs under her and leans against the corner of the couch, wearing one of his gray Army t-shirts. It’s been two months now since they’ve settled into this routine- Jaz wears one of his t-shirts until his scent on it fades, then they switch.  

 

“Oh, just your birthday dinner reservation. Not every day you turn the big 4-0,” Jaz says, smirking as Adam rolls his eyes.

 

“38,” he corrects, but smiles as he takes a seat in the middle cushion and leans back.

 

“Riiiight,” Jaz drawls, then chuckles. “Oh, come on, it’s a little bit annoying. Admit it, old man.”

 

Adam shakes his head, amused. “Same place?”

 

“Yep. Elem Restoran.”

 

“Good. I love their food.” Jaz holds back the scoff somehow, nodding as she studies his profile.

 

Strawberry poptarts and the romance paperbacks he picks out for her -with help from his sisters she assumes- are also part of their new routine.

 

But then there’s this. Quiet moments on the couch, talking, smiling, teasing. It’s so easy and unlike anything Jaz has experienced before -in or out of the Army- yet it all feels normal somehow. Natural. Like it was always meant to be this way. 

 

There’s a fleeting moment of regret, as her subconscious reminds her of their reality, the hard limits it imposes between them. Still, she can’t recall ever feeling so at peace with her job, her team, her life. Adam is a huge part of that - maybe the biggest part- and if friendship is all they can have, Jaz wants to embrace every second of it.

 

So maybe, this year she’ll join him instead of hiding in the shadows as Patton scarfs down the leftover birthday meal. Maybe this year--

 

“What?” Adam asks, noticing the faraway look in her eyes.

 

“Oh, nothing. Just thinking.”

 

“I bet you are,” Adam teases, angling his head toward the half-open book in her hands with a knowing look. There’s no half-naked torso on the cover, but _Hidden Desires of the Heart_ is written in hot pink cursive, and that’s all he needs to confirm the cause of her distracted state.

 

Jaz follows his gaze, then nods. “Oh, yeah. This one’s really good,” she mumbles, grateful for the cover.  

 

The crinkles around his eyes deepen as his smile widens, and her fingertips itch to reach out, trace the lines there, so she jumps to her feet instead.

 

“Here.” Jaz folds the corner of a page, drops the paperback on Adam’s lap. “You know you want to.”

 

Adam smirks at her retreating back, watches her pony tail swing playfully. “Oh, what the hell.”

 

Settling in, he turns to page one.

 

_No man would ever mistake Kathleen Nicole Stolfield for a damsel in distress..._

 

__________________________________

 

Minutes stretch into hours with few signs of movement around their target. It’s a typical summer evening in Cairo, hot and humid, yet bearable. Reaching into the backseat of the heavily tinted Mercedes sedan, Adam retrieves two water bottles from the small cooler.

 

“Thanks,” Jaz says from the passenger seat, twisting the cap open.

 

A middle aged man, oddly wearing a Yankees baseball hat paired with a dark suit, exits the building they’re surveilling. Jaz takes pictures, and Adam speaks into his comms until Noah stops asking questions.

 

As far as recon missions go, this is an uneventful one. Preach, McG and Amir are positioned strategically within a reasonable radius. They always have plans for plans, but no real trouble is expected tonight.

 

“You’re staring,” Jaz says plainly, snapping one last picture as the subject walks around the corner and out of sight.

 

“Am not.” Damn her ninja senses. Jaz turns toward him, raises a challenging eyebrow. “Okay. Maybe a little,” Adam relents.

 

“Out with it, Top.”

 

“It’s nothing. Never mind.”

 

Jaz tilts her head now, curious. “Oh, come on. Yankees hat guy was the last one out of the building, so we’re stuck here for another five hours, at least. I’ll just keep asking until you fold. And you will.”

 

Adam looks down, shakes his head once. “I was wondering about the book you’re reading.”

 

Jaz turns in her seat, expectant. Adam occasionally reading her novels is their little secret -or one of the many on the growing list- and they never discuss them. God forbid McG or Amir overhear, and uncover Adam’s penchant for happy-ever-afters. Preach though, Jaz has a feeling he wouldn’t bat an eye.

 

“What about it?”

 

“Before DC called, I caught up to the page you marked. Read past it to Chapter 3, actually.”

 

“Oh, yeah?” Jaz points a finger in warning. “No spoilers.”

 

“Promise,” Adam raises his hands in mock surrender before continuing. “You, um, said it was really good.”

 

Jaz swallows. Damn it. “Yeah, sure.”

 

“What do you like about it?”

 

Jaz is thankful for the dim lighting to mask the flush spreading on her cheeks. Truth is, the storyline is not her favorite. It’s sloppy, and contradictive, and she’d tolerated the first two chapters hoping it’d improve.

 

Then Adam had strolled in, and she’d gotten so distracted thinking about him that she’d used the book as cover for her wandering mind. Still, while the story won’t be winning a Pulitzer, it’s not the worst thing she’s ever read.

 

“I like Kathleen’s character. She’s strong, knows what she wants...doesn’t take shit from anyone.”

 

Adam nods, turns his head to do a quick sweep over the building across the street.

 

“Yeah, I got that. What about how they meet though? Kathleen and Phillip?” Adam asks casually as he scribbles something -presumably mission related- on the tiny notepad he carries in his pocket, trying to keep the conversation light.

 

Competent, smart Kathleen ending up stranded, kidnapped, and rescued by the handsome ex-Marine isn’t something he’d expect a badass sniper to gravitate towards. But it’s Jaz, and he’s not surprised, because her unapologetic love for cheesy, cliché romance cannot be overstated. Still, something about Kathleen and Phillip’s story had her lost in thought in the middle of the day, and he’s been dying to find out what. 

 

Adam steals a glance at Jaz just in time to see her eyes roll, but she stops right before speaking, narrows her eyes.

 

“Wait,” she says, leaning in towards him. “You didn’t expect me to like that part, did you? How they meet?”

 

Adam shrugs. “You said you did.”

 

Honestly, he has no clue what he expected. Jaz is like a puzzle to him, with enough pieces in place to get the idea, but too many still missing to see the bigger picture.

 

“But you didn't think I would? Because Kathleen gets rescued by Phillip?” Jaz prods.

 

“I don’t know,” he pauses, one hand instinctively scratching at his beard. “It’s just very different from the other novels you’ve read recently.”

 

Jaz grins. “You mean, _we_.”

 

Adam chuckles, and Jaz can’t see it in the darkness, but she knows the tips of his ears are tinged red. Good, she thinks. Because keeping him off balance is her only shot at getting out of this without an outright lie.

 

“Anyway, what does it matter? It’s just a story, Top. A distraction. Like those constellation stories you love so much.”

 

The attempt at deflection is clear as day, but he takes it in stride. It’s true they have a long history of meaningful car conversations, but they’ve also been teetering on the edge of friendship and something more - a _lot_ more actually- and the frailty of it all makes Adam wary to push.

 

“Are you seriously trying to compare ancient Greek mythology to a $7.99 paperback novel?”

 

Jaz laughs at his pretend wounded expression. “Oh, come on. It’s all the same. What’s that story about some helpless girl rescued after being chained to a rock?”

 

“Andromeda,” Adam answers, and Jaz bites back a smile at the wistfulness in his voice.

 

“Right. Well, Kathleen was handcuffed in the back of a stranger’s car when Phillip swooped in and saved her. Practically the same story. I rest my case.”

 

Adam considers that for a moment, takes in her triumphant expression, then sighs dramatically in defeat as he leans the driver’s seat back.

 

Staring up at the night sky through the open moonroof, he raises his arm and points.

 

“There,” he says, waits as Jaz mirrors his movement on the passenger side, “right below Cassiopeia. It’s not as bright, but that’s Perseus, son of Zeus.”

 

Adam shifts into storytelling mode, and not for the first time, she wishes they were just two people enjoying a quiet night under the stars, instead of two career soldiers toeing a dangerous line. That they didn’t have to settle for stolen moments in stake-out cars, or hidden truck bed compartments. That surviving yet another dangerous mission wasn’t the only reason for heart-to-heart talks around a fire. 

 

“Perseus. What’s his story?” she asks finally, because maybe none of this is ideal, but this reality -the job, the rules, the danger- it’s all part of whatever grand plan brought Adam Dalton into her life. So, however long this moment lasts, however imperfect, she’ll take it.

 

“On his way back from cutting off Medusa’s head, he saw Andromeda chained to a rock.”

 

“And he saved her.”

 

“Yeah.” And then married her, Adam thinks, fighting the urge to bring a hand to his chest, feel Cassiopeia resting against his heart.

 

Jaz takes it all in, enjoying the comfortable silence. She thinks of Andromeda, chained and awaiting death, and it’s not surprising when her mind flashes back to Iran, to that white room where she’d learned to make peace with fate. The parallels are too obvious to completely ignore, but her mind doesn’t linger on those memories tonight. Instead, her thoughts turn to Perseus, and...Adam.

 

“Maybe we all need rescuing sometime,” Jaz murmurs. Then, so softly that he almost misses it, “I did.”

 

Adam turns his head at that, finds her eyes already on him, and there’s an endless moment where no words are spoken, yet everything that matters is said.

 

The comms crackle to life. Reality calls.

 

_______________________

 

Jaz types “Perseus” on the google search bar and bites her lip.  It’s the first time she dives into the world of Greek mythology, and while she tells herself it’s simply out of curiosity, deep down she knows the real reason.

 

It’s why she’s spent three weeks agonizing over the perfect birthday gift; why she smiles when a ridiculous number of army shirts tumble out of her basket on laundry day; why her workout playlist is sprinkled with country songs she never thought she’d love, and why she’s been eating her weight in strawberry poptarts.

 

Slowly, Adam Dalton has been seeping into her life -filling in some of the cracks- and in the process, this want she’s always buried in rationalizations has started bubbling to the surface, growing stronger and deeper every night Adam’s scent on a t-shirt lulls her to sleep.

 

For over three years, that invisible thread that’s connected them from day one -the magnetic pull neither would acknowledge, much less try to understand- has quietly strengthened. And now after Elijah, and Iran...now she realizes that thread is made of solid steel, unbreakable. How does she even begin to rationalize that?

 

Perseus stares back at her on the iPad screen, fierce and bold and larger than life, and it strikes her that in spite of being a demigod and a decorated warrior, he didn’t defeat Medusa by charging in only with brute force. Methodically, Perseus had gone about making his plans, taking advice from the Gods, gathering the tools he needed.

 

Perseus was more than a warrior, Jaz thinks. He was a master tactician, a protector, and he’d taken on Medusa because a ruthless King had asked for the monster’s head in exchange for his mother’s freedom.

 

Jaz devours the details, and as she reads, a picture of Adam blooms in her mind, unbidden.

 

A stream of nervous energy bubbles up as the images in her head threaten to become concrete thoughts -the kind she’ll have to label and compartmentalize if she lets them fully form- so she taps the back button a little desperately on the screen, hoping to escape this web of introspection she’s inadvertently trapped herself in. 

 

There’s a wave of relief when the page loads, but instead of hitting the “x” at the top, her fingertip hovers over the second google search result: _Perseus and Andromeda._

Maybe it’s the wistfulness she remembers in Adam’s voice that makes her tap on the link -or maybe it’s a lot more than that- but whatever the reason, Jaz finds herself scrolling down the page.

 

 _It’s just a story,_ she’d said to him that evening in Cairo, but as her eyes settle on a 1510 renaissance painting of the Andromeda rescue, she finds herself whispering the words out loud like a mantra.

 

The tale unfolds as she reads, with Perseus turning the sea monster to stone, freeing Andromeda from the chains, and then that picture of Adam that’s been floating around in her brain becomes one of _them._

 

There is no universe in which she’d consider herself a damsel in distress -even that white room in Tehran hadn’t been powerful enough to make her feel like one- but Jaz is also certain now that in all the ways that matter, Adam Dalton is her Perseus, and as she finally stops running from that truth, it dawns on her: that perfect gift she’s been searching for? This is it.

 

The last paragraph starts with Perseus asking King Cepheus for Andromeda’s hand, and continues on about their happy marriage, the nine children, and the kingdom they founded and ruled until they were placed next to each other in the night sky.

 

“A happy ever after,” Jaz whispers, and smiles.

 

_______________________

 

Adam’s birthday dinner is a success. The private, large booth in the back corner is the perfect setup, and the food and drinks and laughs have their intended effect. It’s almost midnight when a relaxed omega team, drunkenly laughing about surviving Amir’s driving, tumbles out of the SUV when they reach the Quonset hut.

 

Three hours later, the faint rustling sounds from the living area make Jaz sit up straighter in bed, listening. Yes, that’s definitely Top, she thinks. Smiling, she folds the corner of the page she’s re-read five times and closes the book.

 

Jaz opens her door, then moves quietly through the hallway, stopping a couple of feet before reaching the threshold to the kitchen area.

 

Adam stands there in a blue t-shirt, leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest. The microwave light is on, and a plate spins slowly inside. The smell reaches her hiding spot in the hallway, and Jaz quietly chuckles because it’s definitely the leftover chicken dish he’d ordered at the restaurant.

 

Patton is laying on the floor in front of him, and she watches as Adam pushes the stop button before the microwave starts beeping, not wanting to wake up half the team. Taking out the plate, he walks toward the couch, and a minute later she can hear Patton scarfing down the contents as Adam takes a seat.

 

It occurs to her that she doesn’t know how long he’s planning on being up, so if she really wants to do this tonight -the birthday gift and whatever else may come with that- she shouldn’t waste time. Not wanting to startle him, she walks back to her bedroom and closes the door, just loud enough for him to realize someone’s up.

 

“Can’t sleep?” Adam whispers when Jaz is a few feet away, and she hides a smirk when his eyes stray to take in the gray army shirt that swallows her frame. 

 

Nodding, she takes a seat next to him. “You?”

 

“Same. Ominous way to start my 40’s, right?” Adam jokes, and she huffs out a laugh. Patton walks over and plops his head on her lap, and Jaz scratches behind his ears.

 

“Good boy, Patton,” she baby-talks, then leans down closer. “What’s that? You loved the Tavuk Guvec Top just fed you?”

 

Adam offers a guilty smile. “Oh, you know. I just…” he trails off with a helpless shrug, and Jaz twists her lips into a smile.

 

“Don’t worry. I won’t tell the guys you only pretend to like that restaurant.”

 

Adam narrows his eyes. “What’s that going to cost me?”

 

“Oh, I’ll think of something,” Jaz says playfully, then gives Patton a final pat before he walks back to curl up on his favorite chair.  

 

The silence stretches between them, and Jaz closes her eyes briefly to take a deep, steadying breath. It’s now or never.

 

“I, uh, have something for you,” she rushes the words out as she jumps off the couch, mildly afraid of losing her nerve.

 

Walking over to the cage across the room, Jaz zips open one of her field bags, then pulls out a small, silver-wrapped box. Adam just sits there, watching her curiously.

 

“What? It’s the only place I knew McG wouldn’t snoop,” Jaz loud-whispers as she returns to her spot on the couch and sits down, shoulder to shoulder with Adam.

 

Another deep breath, and she turns toward him, extending her hand out to him. Adam’s fingers brush over hers as he wraps a hand around the present, and Jaz lets go with a soft exhale.

 

“Happy Birthday.”

 

Adam grins, gives the box a little shake. “Not ammo, huh?”

 

“It was number two on my list,” Jaz deadpans, and Adam stifles a laugh as he pulls on the black ribbon surrounding the striped wrapping paper. “I mean, Preach did say the Army issues everything you love, so maybe I should have gotten you ammo instead,” she chuckles, eyes darting a bit nervously around the room.

 

Adam’s hands still around the half-unwrapped box, Preach’s words sinking in, and it surprises him that Jaz would repeat them so casually. It’s true they’re nowhere near ready to make any declarations -and even if they were, god, she deserves more than a rushed admission with the Army’s code of conduct hanging over their heads.

 

Still, he thinks of the last few months- the novels, the evenings under the stars, their talks around the fire, the shirts she wears to feel safe - _his shirts_. He’s been so sure all of it means they’re on the same page, but are they?

 

When she doesn’t hear the expected unwrapping sounds, Jaz looks at Adam’s idle fingers, then up into his eyes, questioning.

 

“Are you going to open it?” she asks, clearly oblivious to the thoughts swirling in his mind now.

 

It takes him a few seconds, but he lets it go, because Jaz is looking at him with barely contained excitement, and the last thing he wants is to ruin this moment with half-baked thoughts and his own insecurities.

 

So he smiles, and focuses back on the task at hand. 

 

When he lifts the top of the box, the new leather smell fills the air, and he takes in the rich, dark brown wallet inside. Carefully, he runs his index finger over the front, slowing his movements when he notices the tastefully engraved initials on the bottom right.

 

“Look inside,” Jaz says softly, her stomach knotting in anticipation as she watches him flip the wallet open.

 

When Adam only stares, Jaz figures he can’t see the subtly imprinted symbol in the dim light.

 

“There, on the right. It’s--”

 

“--Perseus.”

 

Adam traces each tiny circle etched on the smooth leather with his thumb. “This is…” speechless, he looks up and holds her gaze, unblinking.

 

Jaz looks away first, swallows. “It reminds me of you. Perseus, I mean. Not just because you’ve literally saved me, but…because my life has been different, better, since the day we met.”

 

“Jaz--” he attempts, but the words die on his tongue once again.

 

In the back of that minivan, driving back from YumurtalIk, he’d been brave enough to show her the Cassiopeia dog tag around his neck, and had struggled trying to explain. A bright smile had been her answer then, but tonight she wants to give him more than that.

 

“This past year... it was rough. And if you hadn’t been there for me, I don’t--” her voice breaks then, and Adam reaches out, covers her clasped hands with his large one. Jaz stares at the ceiling as she takes a deep breath, gathers enough courage to hold his gaze, and hopes her eyes spell the truth she can’t risk verbalizing yet.

 

“You are…so important. To me. I wanted—I need you to know that.”

 

It’s Adam who smiles wide at her this time, and all the circumstances, the job, the rules -the unfair reality she rails against so often in her head- it all just fades away.

 

Those deep, blue eyes are suspiciously shiny and focused entirely on her, and before she can process what is happening, Adam crushes her hard against his chest. A strong hand cradles her head, and the other winds around her waist, and Jaz is powerless against the overwhelming need to press her nose into the hollow of his neck.

 

“Thank you,” he whispers against her hair, and she barely manages a nod because being wrapped up in Adam Dalton is no ordinary thing, and all she wants is to memorize this moment, the warmth of his body engulfing hers, the heady scent of him lacing each breath she takes.

 

Adam isn’t sure how much time passes, but then he feels Jaz’s hands move where they’re twined together against his chest, and he reluctantly loosens his hold, giving her room to move away.

 

But she doesn’t.

 

Instead, she reaches out a shaky finger, traces the shape of the dog tags under his shirt.

 

“Hey,” Adam’s hand wraps around her wrist, stopping her movements, and his breath is warm against her temple when he speaks. “What Preach said? He’s wrong. You know that, right?”

 

Jaz looks up through thick lashes then, lips slightly parted in surprise, and the overwhelming need to kiss her is so powerful that holding back causes him physical pain. Still, he knows he can’t. They can’t. Not like this.

 

“I know,” Jaz finally manages, an understanding smile gracing her lips, and Adam reaches out, tucks lose strands of hair behind her ear, then lets his thumb linger for a long second over her cheek.

 

“We should get some sleep,” he says, regret clear in his voice.

 

Jaz nods, but her throat is dry, and her hand lightly trembles where it rests over his sternum, so Adam gives her wrist a final squeeze, then lets her go.

 

They walk in silence along the hallway, turning away from each other as they reach their respective doors. Jaz takes a deep breath, wondering how she’ll sleep when every nerve in her body’s still on fire, and then suddenly Adam is right there behind her. 

 

She turns, but it’s too dark to see, so she tries to slow her breaths, and waits. The tension is almost palpable, and she’s about to speak when his calloused hands come up to her face. Adam sighs, slides his fingers into her hair, then places an almost reverent kiss on her forehead.

 

It lasts a second, or an hour, Jaz can’t be sure, but before she can get her bearings, Adam’s gone.

 

The door closes behind her, and a million thoughts swirl in her head, the thrill of barely contained desire still vibrates along her skin, but in her heart, Jaz is at peace.

 

“Happy Birthday, Adam,” she whispers, and sleeps.

 


	8. Something Old

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Weddings, as it turns out, are pretty exhausting. Especially when they're your own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I have five million other things people are waiting on but the anxiety over the cancellation/renewal news has stopped me up for like a week now. And then there was just depression and sadness. We decided we needed fluff. This is what happened.
> 
> Thanks to the Fab5 for...literally everything. And extra thanks to Lilly for the beta.:)

Jaz slumps into a chair at the table, collapsing across the top of it with a groan. Adam loosens his tie, chuckling as he moves closer, already reaching for the back of her dress.

“I can't breathe.”

“I thought you were dead set against a traditional dress,” he says, undoing the tiny clasps, one by one.

“I was but then I put this one on and...listen, I thought Hannah was going to marry me on the spot,” she laughs, groaning in relief when the last of the clasps is undone, though she doesn’t move.

“I can think of a couple people who would’ve been pretty upset about that,” Adam teases, setting his broad hands on her bare shoulders, rubbing just the way she likes, earning himself an appreciative moan. “It’s a nice dress. You looked beautiful.”

“You cried.” Jaz tilts her head to look up at him, smiling.

“I--Alright, yeah. Yeah, I did. Can you blame me? Today was a long time coming.” Years of being sure they'd never get here, and yet.

“It was worth the wait.” She sits up, finally, tipping her head back against his middle as she draws his arms around her. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Can you help me take down my hair?” It’s not the most romantic thing she’s ever said to him, but he takes on the task eagerly, painstakingly unpinning each curl, a pile of bobby pins growing on the table beside her.

“Anyway, you cried, too,” he says, the realization dawning, the memory taking root in his chest.

“Did not.” She scoffs, but he can tell it’s just for show, can visualize the exact face she’s making.

Adam bends to kiss her neck, just under her ear--the spot that he’s learned melts her instantly.

“Preach got it on video,” he reminds her, whispering against her skin. When she whines and bats him away, he laughs.

“It was a pretty good day, though. Even with the crying,” Jaz says.

His hands make quick work of braiding her hair, a rote task by now. Everything about her is familiar and Adam spares a second to remember a time before that was true, to be grateful for how far they’ve come.

“It was decent,” he agrees. “You tired?” Just from the set of her shoulders, he can tell.

“Adrenaline’s finally starting to wear off.” She yawns, getting to her feet, the dress sliding down to catch on her hips. Her mouth twists into a frown, as if the dress is being uncooperative, and Adam barely resists the urge to kiss her. Mostly because he knows she’ll swat and huff at him.

“I hear there’s a really nice bed just on the other side of that door.” He helps her out of the dress instead, draping it carefully across the table. There’s a minute of appreciating Jaz standing there in her lacy underthings--a sight he’ll never tire of--but then Adam lifts her in his arms.

“Seriously?” But she’s laughing and looping her arms around his neck and there’s the same sort of warmth in her eyes he’s seen a dozen other times today--the one that’s only ever been directed at him.

Adam carries her into the bedroom and is about to set her on the bed when she stops him. “Bathroom,” she murmurs, half asleep already. It’s been a long day, and as used to those as they are, this is a different kind of tired.

He’s waiting when she’s done and lifts her again, this time setting her on the counter. He hands her her toothbrush and wets a washcloth to gently rub the makeup off her face.

“Is it pathetic that I’m too tired to have sex on our wedding night?” she asks after spitting and rinsing her mouth.

“I think we’ve more than made up for it,” Adam says, pressing his forehead to hers and kissing her softly. “Why do you think I suggested taking an extra day before the honeymoon?”

“Have you done this before? Is there something you’re not telling me? A secret wife?”

For that, he sweeps her off the counter and all but tosses her into bed, pinning her under him, just wanting to be as close as possible.

“You are the only woman I have ever wanted to marry, the only one I’ve ever loved. And the only one I ever will.”

Jaz traces his face with her fingertips, keeping him close, breathing him in.

“Better be. Cuz you’re it for me. I’m never wearing that dress again. And forget about the hair.”

Adam laughs, stealing a kiss before pulling away from her despite her protests.

“Look, as sexy as this lacy getup is, I don’t think it’s very comfortable,” he says, gesturing to her undergarments.

Curious, she watches him rifle through the suitcase, blinking when he tosses her a shirt. She knows it instantly, better than any other item of clothing she’s ever worn.

“You packed this?” Jaz asks, incredulous. She unhooks her bra and tugs the shirt on, burying her nose in the collar with a smile.

“Thought you’d like it.” Adam grins, crawling back into bed with her. Jaz barely waits for him to lay down before tucking herself against him.

“This is why I married you.”

“Because I let you wear my clothes?” he teases.

“Because you always know,” she murmurs, nuzzling under his jaw. “You know me. All of me. Better than I do.”

“I could say the same thing,” Adam whispers, but by the time he’s done talking, she’s already asleep.

He thinks about spending the rest of his life like this, falling asleep holding her. Today, he married Jaz Khan, and nothing has ever made him happier.


End file.
